


Hunted

by XvoodooXXblueX



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (2006), Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (2003)
Genre: AU after CotBP, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:37:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1308472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XvoodooXXblueX/pseuds/XvoodooXXblueX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Old fic: One of the men under James’ command survived the hurricane. He vows revenge against the Commodore whose obsession cost the crew their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

James Norrington had known his fatal error the moment the hurricane came crashing down upon the Dauntless and her crew. Many lives had been lost, many men crippled and injured. He had failed them, he knew it even as he held on to a drifting wooden plank in the stormy waters just off Tripoli while the current threatened to pull him into the inky blackness that resulted from the sky’s reflection on the water just as it had many of his men, men who had trusted him to make the right decision. Yet his conviction had long since turned into an obsession that could no longer be justified by his profession, his title as Commodore or even his reputation as the most feared Pirate Scourge of the Caribbean.  
He knew that now, knew all his faults. The admiralty had not failed in informing him about every single one of them over and over again in each of the many questionings he had to endure, although the loss of two of the British Royal Navy’s ships had already almost been enough to cost him his commission.   
Maybe it was that and the last vestiges of his pride that had driven him to resign unsolicited, or maybe Lady Luck hadn’t yet abandoned him completely.

James had made a lot of mistakes and he was willing to bear the consequences of his actions, as much as it irked him that he had the exact words in mind that young mister Turner had used. But he knew what he had to do and, although the agonised screams of his dying fellow marines and friends would haunt him to the end of his life, James had not yet given up hope for whatever future lay before him. It was all he could do. There was nothing left for him in the ties he had with his past, the live that he had called his. 

Acceptance, the now resigned Commodore noted while packing few of his belongings, came more easily to him than he had thought, but then again his guilt-ridden conscience that hadn’t let him sleep more than a few minutes for the last three nights had taken over the rest, ensuring that he would go through with his plan to leave Port Royal for good and not to fight for maintaining at least some remnants of the life he had led in honour and respect. Knowing that he had done all he could for the moment was almost enough for James to leave with less weight on his heart, but not quite sufficient to suppress his sadness and guilt. No, it would be a very long time before he found anything that could quell his guilt.

There were, however people for whom all of James’ ideas of sincere remorse and repentance were by no means enough, namely the survivors of the Dauntless disaster and the families and friends of those whose lives had been lost.  
It would soon become apparent to the former commodore that he was in danger and pain would not only be suffered from inside himself.

It was James’ last night in the house he had called his home for the last eight years. He had packed the belongings he would take and was now sitting in his living room, sipping a glass of brandy while the few candles on the mantle piece cast an eerie glow over the walls. 

A resounding crash from outside the window suddenly startled James out of his deep thoughts, making him leap up and hurry to the window to look outside. He saw nothing, though that could have been the cause of the noise and so he decided to go outside and check for any possible source of disturbance, his suspicions of anything that could hold potential for trouble still as alert as ever.  
It was dark outside as he opened the front door and stepped out, striding purposefully around a corner from where the crash had come. Upon approaching the windowsill he saw that a plant pot had been shattered on the floor. It was not a windy night, though, and so James knew that something else had to be the cause, his eyes sweeping the darkness wearily, searching for an intruder.

A movement seen only out of the corner of his eye and Norrington could only barely dodge the man who was lunging at him with a dagger poised to strike at his back. James immediately cursed himself for not bringing his sword and twisted away from another blow meant to be fatal as he recognised the assailant, Sam Talbot. He was one of the sailors that had survived the Dauntless, but his brother, Joseph had been lost when part of the mast came crashing down on his head.

Talbot gave his target no time to contemplate those dark memories as he sliced again and again at Norrington, a manic glint in his eyes making him look downright insane.  
James spun and twisted out of the way of the deadly blade as best as he could in his unarmed state, trying to move towards the front door with every step, although knowing that his chances to get there were very limited.   
He was soon forced to take part in the fight physically to throw off his attacker. Well-placed kicks and blows were supposed to do the trick, but nearly ineffective against an armed man bent on killing his opponent.

A slash to his abdomen and James stumbled back against the wall, gasping in pain, an arm coming up to his waist to cover the wound. He was cornered now. The next blow would surely be aimed at his throat or his heart. Talbot laughed as he saw the weakened former commodore and surged forward, his dagger aiming for the heart. James kicked with all his might upwards in an attempt to save his life and missed the spot he had aimed for, his boot connecting with Talbot’s face instead which, admittedly did the trick for the time being, dazing the larger man momentarily. 

There was not much James could do in his current situation of peril and he had to think fast, so he decided on making an escape for now. He wasn’t sure where his feet were leading him, but he was putting space between him and the crazed sailor and that was all that mattered until he could get hold of a decent weapon to defend himself.

He was now ever so thankful for the woods that lay just beyond his home. Having cursed them only days before for obscuring the view of the ocean they were now a convenient escape route. It would surely not take long for Talbot to recover and James had no intention at all to discover how his attempt to fight back had angered the man further. James ran down sloping barely accessible paths and stumbled over protruding roots more than once, but he was making progress, that is, until a shot from the distance stopped him in his tracks. Another resounding shot and a bullet that barely missed his arm told him that he was under attack. Another bullet whizzing past his back in the darkness told him that there was more than one person shooting.

Norrington cursed and began to run again. Cross-country and between trees this time, praying that he could outrun the assassins. He had made his mind up fast that running towards the port was his only chance at the moment. He could surely acquire a weapon there and maybe get some help.

He did manage to reach the port without being hit by any of the missiles, though he had some very close calls, but when he came out into the open and stared about harbour where the ships were moored there was hardly a soul there. The place was almost entirely deserted and James was quite sure that he had Talbot to thank for that. The man had obviously had more help than expected. Did the people of this town really hate him that much, James wondered, but was brought back to the present immediately as another shot was fired in his general direction from out of the woods.

Beginning to panic he ran towards the only people that seemed to be present, a French fishing vessel was preparing to leave port, the men calling to each other in French. James’ French was hardly fluent, but he did have some knowledge of the language and at that moment it just had to be enough. The way he saw his current situation, unarmed and being followed by assassins that were drawing nearer every moment, he had no other choice but to leave Port Royal and make plans in the safety of another port.

_“Viendriez-vous à Port Au Prince?” (“Are you going to Port Au Prince?”)_ James asked one of the sailors, looking behind him every few seconds, expecting to see at least three men bearing guns to pour out between the trees.  
 _"Oui, monsieur. Nous venons au Port Au Prince.” (Yes, sir. We’re going to Port Au Prince.”)_ The captain, judging by his hat, confirmed.  
Norrington heard distant voices and knew that they were coming for him and the vessel was about to leave. He could only hope that these sailors would take him aboard.  
 _“Pourriez-vous m’emmener? Je peux travailler.” (“Can you take me with you?” I can work.”)_ James asked, adding an incentive that he hoped would be enough.  
The captain grinned, showing horrible teeth. _“Oui, bien sûr.” (“Yes, of course”)_ he said. _“Nous avons toujours besoin d’aide. Bienvenu à bord, monsieur.” (“We are always in need of help. Welcome aboard, sir.”)_  
Norrington scrambled aboard the boat not a minute too soon as soon after the boat had left port the assassins came pouring out of the woods. It had been four, all bearing rifles, and they were now searching for him, no doubt thinking that he had managed to hide somewhere.  
As he breathed a sigh of relief, James flinched a bit, a stab of pain reminding him of the gash on his abdomen.

The voyage to Port Au Prince took the crew of the fishing vessel four days with occasional stops in between to pull in the nets that they had left in certain places of relatively shallow water. Now they had to bring in the catch. James worked as best as he could, with certain difficulties of understanding the orders yelled across the boat in French dialect. He managed alright, though. His injury was beginning to heal after he had re-opened it twice by not being careful enough. He had always managed to tend to it in rare moments of privacy and as the gash wasn’t very deep he wasn’t really worried. It would heal without professional assistance.

Port Au Prince was one of the larger towns in the Caribbean under French reign. It was busy with trade, had a large market and a governor. James hoped that he might be able to obtain some help there and send a message to governor Swann in Port Royal, asking him to put a stop to Talbot’s mad hunt.

But the first thing that the former commodore was going to worry about was food and a room to catch up on the sleep he had missed out on during the journey as the men had decided it would do better to work day and night while reaching port faster. The weather was about to change for the worse  
So James used the small amount of money he had in his pockets to pay for a small room at a run-down inn.   
The room was cramped, the walls cracked, the bed was hard and creaked, but it would be enough for one night, he thought as he settled down and fell asleep immediately and for longer than he had planned.

He woke up near sundown the next day, his stomach growling with hunger, but he pushed that feeling aside fairly quickly. He had no money left and a mind to go and speak with someone of authority in this town, hoping that he could meet the governor and explain his situation.

The fort of Port Au Prince was located atop a high cliff overlooking the port. There were only two ways leading up. The main pathway, easily accessible for carriages and horses, and a narrow footpath that led along the edge of the cliff with a thick crop of trees on the other side. James decided that he would take the footpath which wound uphill with the sheer drop of the cliffs right next to it, the ocean below curling around dangerous rocks, as he would be faster not having to weave his way between the horse-drawn vehicles.

Having walked for about fifteen minutes the former commodore was beginning to think that he might have made a mistake as the way he had chosen became very narrower and stonier, evidence to the fact that it wasn’t used a lot and he could understand why. He decided, though, that he wouldn’t turn back. It was growing dark as the sun set on the horizon and he would soon have trouble seeing the narrow path in the dim light.

A cracking noise behind him made James freeze in his tracks and turn scanning his surroundings suspiciously. He found nothing, though. The trees were growing thick, so he walked a way between them, but he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. The only sounds he could hear were the song of exotic birds in the trees and the churning of the ocean below. James sighed. The events in Port Royal had obviously left him more shaken than he had up to now been ready to admit.

Back on the path, James hurried along a little more than before. It would have most likely been fatal to be surprised by the sudden darkness of nightfall.

The shot was sudden It came out of nowhere and absolutely unexpected, the bullet lodging its self between James’ shoulder blades, ripping a strangled and surprised gasp from his throat as he stumbled, pain spreading throughout his back, travelling along his spine. The second shot hit lower in his back and he doubled over in pain. The ocean and razor sharp rocks rushing towards him at break-neck speed were the last things he saw, as he tumbled over the edge of the cliff. Then there was nothing, no pain, just darkness that enveloped James.

The blackness faded slowly, giving way to lighter colours and then a blinding white flash before returning to a soft orange glow. James was conscious, in a way. Conscious enough to wonder if maybe he was dead. “Am I dead?” he tried to ask, but no words seemed to leave his mouth. He tried to move, but his body didn’t seem to want to obey. His fingers twitched, though, and so James decided to open his eyes. Which was a bad idea, a very bad idea. A blinding pain shot through his skull as he did so, making him want to scream, but all he could utter was a hoarse croak, barely recognisable as a human sound.

His mind addled with pain, James tried to sit up, but was prevented, by a gentle and firm pressure on his shoulders.  
“Don’ try to move.” A voice told him urgently and made sure he laid still. James recognised the voice, he was sure, but he couldn’t place it. Too much pain, too much confusion were racing through his barely functioning mind.  
He tried to speak again, his vocal chords betraying him, though. Then he felt the rim of a glass press against his lips and the slide of water against them and in his mouth when he opened it while he was gently helped up into a half-sitting position.

A hacking cough wracked James’ body when he tried to drink too fast and the glass was removed, a soothing voice talking to him until the coughs had subsided. That voice, calm, soothing and rich. James knew the man, he was sure.  
Finally he managed to open his eyes and gave them time to adjust. And he found out he did know the man who had been talking to him for the man was none other than Captain Jack Sparrow.

Had James not been in so much pain he would have taken much offence to having Sparrow take care of him and even touch him, but as he was in no condition to complain he opted for another move.  
“What… what happened?” the former commodore rasped, his voice better now, but still not used to speaking again.  
Jack drew in a breath and blew it out again before he answered. “Well, Commodore, we pulled ye out o’ the water. Two bullet holes in yer back, some broken ribs an’ an impressive concussion.” The pirate captain explained, his hands fiddling with the edge of the sheet.

“How long was I out for?” was James’ next question. The exact order and circumstances of the events that had happened the day he was so badly injured had yet to come back to him.  
“Over a week.” Sparrow answered. “Nearly didn’ recognise ye when we hauled ye aboard. About to think ye wouldn’ make it either.” He added, his voice low and more grave than usual. “The Doc took the bullets out.” He explained. “An’ they weren’t in too deep, lucky fer you, mate. Could ‘ave easily hurt yer spine. An’ yer head an’ ribs… ye must ‘ave had a bad fall.”

James managed a small nod which immediately sent a shot of pain through his back and made him screw up his face in pain. “I fell… I fell off a cliff.” He managed to recall. “There were rocks.” It was the last thing he could remember, the fear of being skewered on one of those dreadful rocks. He wasn’t dead, though and he thanked god for that, even though the pain he was in was immense.

“An’ the bullets, Commodore?” Captain Sparrow queried, handing James the glass of water once more which was placed on a makeshift bedside table which looked to be nothing more than an empty crate.  
The bullets. It all came rushing back to James all of a sudden as he gave Jack the now empty glass back. The fight with Talbot, his escape to Port Au Prince, it was all replaying in James’ mind now and he felt an anger surge through his battered body at being assassinated so dastardly.

James took as deep a breath as he could to calm himself. “It’s not commodore anymore.” He began to explain. “I resigned.”  
Sparrow raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Why’d ye do that?” he asked, his hand moving around in their usual manner, making James feel light-headed as he watched them. “I lost the Dauntless and my crew.” And so James related to Jack the entire story of how he had taken the fatal chance to sail through the hurricane.

Jack listened with interest, his face changing expressions with every sentence and nuance of the story.  
“That still doesn’t explain how ye came to be in this sorry condition.” The captain mentioned helpfully.  
“I’m coming to that, Sparrow.” The former commodore growled, and winced as it hurt his throat.  
Jack rolled his eyes. “It’s CAPTAIN Sparrow.” He reminded James patiently. “An’ there’s no need to get all worked up. I’m listenin’.”

James quieted down again and continued. “One of the sailors, Talbot, his brother died that day on the Dauntless. He vowed vengeance and the day I was due to leave Port Royal he decided to take it.”  
Jack’s face lit with understanding. “Ah, the cut on yer stomach.” James nodded.  
“But that’s not all.” He continued. “I was unarmed when he came for me and he had apparently hired some men as assassins.” James voice became more quiet again and Jack poured some more water and helped James to sit up again and take a sip, James accepting the assistance reluctantly.  
Having drunk some more, James began to tell the rest of the story. “I escaped to Port Au Prince and thought I was safe there. They ambushed me on the way to the governor’s office.” James explained bitterly, cursing his lack of attention.

Sparrow nodded in understanding. “I know the place. An` the rocks. Ye’re bloody lucky that ye aren’t dead, mate.”

James nodded and groaned as his head throbbed painfully and his vision turned black at the edges, the horrible taste of bile rising up in his throat.  
Jack saw the colour drain from James’ face and knew what was going to happen; he had seen many a man with a bad concussion. Lunging for the bucket that stood a way from the bed he just managed to place it on the floor before James leant over the side of the bed and retched into it.

When it was over Jack helped James lie down again slowly. “Alrigh’.” He said. “You need more rest an’ I have a ship to captain.” Jack stood back up and went to the door, but James called him back.  
“Why are you doing this, Sparrow?” he asked, because in his opinion, he and Jack weren’t exactly on helping-each-other-terms.  
Jack stopped in his tracks and turned to James in a swaying motion. “Ah, yes.” He said, gesturing with his hands. “Well, you spared me life an’ I saved yours. We’re square.” Having sufficiently explained his reasons, in his opinion, Jack left James to his thoughts and to very welcome sleep.

It was late at night when Jack came, stumbled back into his cabin, an almost empty bottle of rum swinging lazily in his hand. He had brought a candle with him which he placed on the table its light casting a warm golden glow about the room.  
Jack’s eyes came to rest on the still form of the former commodore who was sleeping peacefully. One glance at the bucket beside the bed told Jack that there had been no more retching. He nodded in satisfaction. It was as the ship’s doctor had said. Norrington would be fine and recover fully given the time.  
Jack let his eyes wander to the man’s face. He looked a lot younger without that ridiculous wig. Also, Jack had to admit, James was very handsome, his dark hair falling around him in shoulder length waves.  
Jack chuckled lowly at his thoughts, blaming them on the rum. He needed to get rid of the stuff, so he tipped the bottle to his lips once more and drank deeply, emptying it in one draught.  
Swaying on the spot, Jack made his way precariously to the hammock he had hung up next to the bed and after some difficulties lay down on it, passing out almost immediately.


	2. Part II

It was two weeks after Jack had found James that James was getting very irritated with still being bed ridden. He had rarely ever been sick and even if he had been he had made a point of ignoring it to his best abilities and so he was a very difficult patient. But the doctor stayed firm in his opinion that the former commodore would need another week for his wounds to heal completely. James tried to protest and asked Jack to at least give him some easy chores on deck, but Jack claimed he’d have the Doc after him if he did that.

Jack and James got along surprisingly well to the extent that they weren’t intent on killing each other. Being reluctant roommates though had made living with each other very trying in the beginning. They disagreed about everything there was to disagree about, bickering all the time. The one time that Gibbs had overheard their disagreements he had accused them of sounding like an old couple, an amused twinkle in his eyes. Both men had shut their mouths immediately and Jack had sent Gibbs on his way, muttering about “not funny” while James had suddenly become very interested in the bed sheets.  
After that day there was a lot less bickering to be heard and they actually managed to have some civilised conversations, James coming to the conclusion that Jack was a lot more educated than he had ever let on and Jack finding that the stick up James’ backside had obviously been partially removed together with the title and the wig about which Jack teased the former commodore relentlessly.

During the third week of being forced to rest in the captain’s cabin all day, James thought he might go insane. The ship’s doctor had removed the bandages and declared that the bullet wounds and broken ribs were healing nicely, but even James had to admit that he did still feel a little sore. He spent brief periods walking on deck, but it seemed that the Doc, as everyone on the Black Pearl called the man, was there at all times, shooing James back below deck. It also didn’t help that the elderly man had taken to calling James ‘son’, as it caused the former commodore to be very embarrassed.

One afternoon during hat week James found himself pacing the short stretch of the cabin, feeling his whole body crawl with the urge to do something, anything. Looking about the room, James’ eyes came to rest on the table which Jack used as a desk and to rest his feet upon. It was covered in maps and little bits and pieces as well as empty rum bottles, of course. James rolled his eyes at the amount of them. He sometimes really wondered about when Jack had last been completely sober.

Looking at the maps, there was nothing that James could make of the notes that lay beside them, written in surprisingly neat handwriting which once again made him wonder who Jack had been before he had become the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow.

Stepping back from the desk, James suddenly noticed something on the floor, wedged under one of the table’s legs, obviously to keep the surface level. It was a book and after having another look around the cabin James concluded that it was the only book that could be found in there which didn’t appear to be a log or something else he didn’t dare touch.  
Another thing that had changed was that James had actually come to respect Jack as a captain. Not his captain, but a captain of a ship nonetheless and so it was James’ honour that prevented him from prying.

Having carefully removed the empty bottles and anything else breakable from he table, James crouched down next to the uneven leg and noted that it would only make the table tilt slightly if he removed the book. He did so, mindful not to disturb anything on top of the surface and succeeded.  
James dusted the book off and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline when he read the title. It was a copy of William Shakespeare’s ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’.   
A chuckle escaped his lips. It seemed so much like Jack to use such a book for practical purposes rather than for reading it.  
It was a book, some entertainment, and James didn’t remember ever reading it before, so he decided it was the best he would get at the moment. Flopping down on the bunk once more he began to read.

Jack came back to the cabin that night, rum bottle in hand, his steps a little more swaying than usual. James looked up from his reading and watched mildly interested as Jack flopped down onto the chair at the table and placed his feet up on the top. A slight frown crept onto the captain’s face and he removed his feet once more and placed the bottle of rum he had been holding on the table. It nearly slipped off and Jack could only just catch it before it went over the edge to shatter on the floor. Cursing, Jack got up, swaying on the spot and went to inspect the table’s leg, finding the book missing from under it.

Jack turned to James and pointed an accusing finger at him. “You.” He said, glaring. “You took me book.”  
“I was bored.” James replied mildly. “It’s the only book in here that one can actually read.”  
Jack opened his mouth and closed it again. “I nearly spilled me rum.” He ranted. “Would ‘ave been a horrible waste of perfectly fine rum.” He declared, looking more comical than annoyed.  
James rolled his eyes “Jack, you used a Shakespeare book to even out the table. That is a waste of perfectly fine literature.” He countered, enjoying this little banter.

The captain huffed and went to rummage through a drawer, finally pulling out a wooden wedge which he placed where the book had been. Nodding in satisfactions he sat back down on the chair and made himself comfortable, sipping his rum.

James read on for a while before turning his head to watch Jack as he traced a route on a map with a pair of compasses. It was a rare thing to see Jack so concentrated, almost absent and James couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was wrong, but deciding that it might only be his own unease speaking, he didn’t mention his observations. But there was one other subject he had to speak about.

“Jack, what is the next port you are planning to stop at?” James asked, sitting up on the side of the bed.  
The captain looked up from his work and replied “Why, Tortuga o’ course.” He said, his eyes lighting up immediately. “Ye ever been to Tortuga?”  
James shook his head and Jack sighed dramatically. “It is indeed a sad life that has never breathed deep the sweet proliferous bouquet that is Tortuga.” He exclaimed, gesturing wildly with his hands.  
James nodded doubtfully. “If you say so. I have heard of the place, though. It doesn’t sound to be the place I would want to begin going about reorganizing my life.” He clarified his point.  
Jack nodded. “Ah.” He said. “Ye could of course join me crew.” He told James, looking as serious as possible. James just snorted at the prospect and looked even more doubtful.  
Jack shook his head. “Well, then.” He declared. “I guess we could drop ye off at a different port after Tortuga.”

The Black Pearl docked at the port of Tortuga at sundown three days later. Jack sent all the crew out to get supplies while he went to acquire some information. By now James was sure that Jack was planning something, that something big was going on. Jack had been very tense recently, drinking a lot, even more than usual, and avoiding everyone’s questions. Even the crew had noticed that something was amiss with their captain. But every time someone asked the him about it, Jack gave some elaborate confusing answer that really didn’t give away anything and made even less sense.

Just before everyone left the ship, James tried to talk to Jack again.   
“Jack, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked, joining Jack in the cabin where he was having a last look at some maps.  
“Everything’s fine.” Jack replied, giving James a golden grin. “Nothing ye need to worry about.”  
James rolled his eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me. But you’re acting as if there was trouble brewing.” That was exactly the thought that had been on James’ mind for some time now. He’d been sharing he cabin with Jack for some weeks now and he noticed a well concealed, but still noticeable nervousness in the pirate and that was something he had never seriously seen in Jack. Not even at the gallows, the day he was supposed to die.  
“Alright, then.” James told Jack. “I’ll be joining the crew to get supplies.” And he turned and walked to the door.  
“Why do ye even care?” Jack asked, just as James was about to leave the room. “Yer leaving soon anyway.”  
The slamming of the door was the last thing Jack heard of James at that moment.

Several hours later Jack’s mood was a lot better. He had all the information he needed. Bearings of an island and the knowledge of what exactly it was he was looking for and how he would get it. Also, the bottle of rum that he was currently carrying in his hand was an incredible improvement as well. And now he was on the way to join his crew for a night of drinking and hopefully something more.

Jack made his way to The Faithful Bride which was the tavern he and his crew frequented every time they were in Tortuga. At the door he met Gibbs who was currently leaving together with a woman of about forty whose face was heavily made up with powder and kohl.   
The two men exchanged greetings and Gibbs informed him that most of the crew had left already.  
“Oh, but Cap’n, I think ye should help yer former commodore out a bit. The girls like him a lot.”  
Jack nodded and moved towards the table where James was sitting, a girl on each side of him who were very busy with flaunting their goods. As an afterthought, though, Jack turned on he spot and Glared at Gibbs. “He’s not my former commodore. Ye’d do good rememberin’ that.”  
Gibbs only nodded and grinned at Jack, before his company for the night ushered him out onto the street.

Upon arriving at the table, Jack shooed away the girls who were already trying to use their charms on him. But Jack just brushed their affections off, already used to being the centre of attention whenever he entered a tavern, no matter where.  
Having sent the ladies on their way, Jack slid onto the bench next to James, who was slouched there and was nursing what Jack thought was certainly not his first mug of rum.  
The captain waved a hand in front of James’ face, making the other man’s eyes turn to him unfocused.  
James tried to raise an eyebrow in his usual manner, but in his inebriated state it looked rather more comical and consequently made Jack laugh.

James glared at him. “What’s so funny?” he demanded, slurring his words.  
Jack shook his head. “Ye’re too drunk to look intimidating, James.” He chided.  
The look that the former commodore shot him could have turned fresh milk sour and he looked away and sighed tiredly. “What do you want?” he slurred, turning to glare at Jack again.  
Jack sighed dramatically. “I was actually goin’ to tell you what I’ve been doing, but I guess that can wait ‘til tomorrow.” Sliding an arm around James’ shoulders, Jack helped him stand up and supported him to the door. “I think its best we get ye back to the Pearl now.”  
“I can walk alone.” James complained, breaking away from Jack and stumbling immediately. Jack rolled his eyes. “Ye’re drunk as a… sailor.” He told James, laying the supporting arm back in place. 

“So why do you care?” James rounded on Jack and gave him a surprisingly clear glare before storming off in the direction of the ship, only swaying slightly.  
Jack sighed. James wasn’t quite as drunk as he’d thought, but actually more angry, probably.   
With a sound of frustration the captain took off after James and soon caught up with him in a small narrow alley that led to the port.

“Bloody hell.” Jack cursed. “Are ye goin’ to wait for me?”   
James sighed in aggravation and stopped walking, turning to wait for Jack. The captain circled James and effectively blocked the way. “Right. Me thinks ye’re overreacting a little.” Jack told James, gesturing with his hands. “Now, if this is about earlier. I didn’ meant to snap at ye, alrigh’? So how about we take ourselves back to the Pearl an’…”  
But Jack couldn’t finish his sentence, because James had him pinned to the rough wall of one of the houses that lined the alley and was effectively silencing him with a hot, rough kiss. It went on for some time, a battle of tongues, hands exploring the other’s outline. Jack broke away first, though, pushing James back a little in the process.

“No, no, no.” Jack waved his hands wildly, his eyes wide. “Ye don’t want to be doing this. Ye’re drunk.” Jack had still tasted the rum on James tongue and it was a very nice experience, but he didn’t want to do anything James would want to kill him for in the morning.  
In a second James was back, standing closer to Jack than ever. “I’m sober enough to know what I want. And right now that’s you. Right here.”  
Jack swallowed hard, feeling desire build up within him and he nodded, letting James push him back up against the wall again. 

This time it was Jack who claimed James’ lips first, with a bruising passion. James laid his arms around Jack’s waist and pulled him closer, crushing their bodies together as well as both their growing erections.   
James moaned as Jack wriggled his hips sensuously which was rewarded by James ripping open Jack’s shirt with one swift movement.

Jack purred in approval, not unlike a cat that was being petted as James began to assault his throat and shoulders with kisses and nips that travelled lower until they reached Jack’s nipples.  
He teased the hard nubs mercilessly and Jack did the same with James’ erection rolling his hips and pressing his own hard-on against James’.  
The former commodore’s breath hitched in his throat and he moaned lowly at the sensations that were running through his body. This was too slow, far too little contact, so James slid his hands below Jack’s open shirt, mapping out the captain’s well-defined abs and chest before moving them down and doing away with Jack’s belt in a jiffy.

“Ye’ve done this before.” Jack gasped, pressing his erection into James’ hands desperate for contact.  
James didn’t answer; he just flashed Jack a wicked grin and gave his hard cock one languid stroke.  
Jack was unbelievably glad that James’ taller frame was practically holding him up against the wall, because the other man’s ministrations made his knees go weak.  
“Oh, bloody hell.” He gasped as James began to run his thumb over the tip of Jack’s erection, setting all of Jack’s senses on fire. 

Not wanting to do nothing, Jack reached for James once more and pulled him into a frantic kiss, divesting James of his shirt and running his hands over the smooth expanse of pale skin that was revealed. Leaning down, Jack ran his tongue over the thin scar that was the remainder of the gash that James had obtained during the fight with Talbot.  
Shuddering with pleasure at having Jack’s tongue so close to his lower regions James moaned the pirate captain’s name and threaded his hands through thick black hair while Jack’s hands worked on he buckle of James’ belt and the laces of his breaches.  
Soon Jack was freeing James’ erection of its confines and James pressed into the touch immediately, making Jack chuckle and kneel down on the floor to lick across the tip of the hard prick.

James had to support himself against the wall now to keep his knees from giving out at the sensations that where now coursing from his cock through his whole body as Jack sucked on the erect member with skill.  
This went on until James’ moans were hoarse with arousal and he thought he couldn’t hold back much longer. Tugging at Jack’s hair, he made the captain stand back up.  
“Turn around.” James breathed against Jack’s ear. “Let me take you.”

The pirate’s breath hitched at hearing James’ words and he was only too happy to comply, letting James know by turning to face the wall and letting his breaches fall around his ankles, flaunting his backside in James’ face.

The other man chuckled and used both his hands to cup both cheeks of Jack’s perfect buttocks, humming in approval.   
Pressing Jack right up against the wall, James whispered into his ear. “I’m going to make you scream.” He announced and slid a spit-slicked finger against Jack’s entrance.  
Jack’s hands scrabbled against the wall and he pressed back against the finger as it slid inside, a little pain soon giving way to a lot of pleasure as James began to prepare the pirate for penetration.  
“Oh, bloody hell, yes.” Jack moaned when James found his sweet spot and began to tease it mercilessly. “Inside me, now.” Jack’s voice was raspy, but the order was clear and James was of course glad to follow it.

Letting his own breaches fall, he slicked his cock with his own precum and some spit and pressed it against Jack’s opening slowly. The keening sound that escaped the captain’s throat then was too much for James. With one swift motion of his hips he sheathed himself to the hilt in Jack’s tight hot passage and moaned his pleasure loudly.

James started a slow rhythm, but it soon became a lot faster and rougher, James sliding out almost completely and pounding back in to hit Jack’s sweet spot as often as possible. His ears were met by rewarding moans and incoherent words as Jack rested his body against the wall for support while thoroughly enjoying being buggered senseless by James.  
Just when he thought his pleasure couldn’t become any more, James’ hand moved around Jack’s body to take hold of Jack’s erection and stroke it in time with hard deep thrusts.

The burning sensation of orgasm built up long and maddeningly slow in Jack’s stomach and coiled outward back to his cock, shooting out of it in hot pearly spurts as James ran his thumb across the tip of Jack’s erection once more.  
The force of his orgasm was earth shattering to Jack, rendering him senseless for the time being.  
James couldn’t hold back anymore when he felt Jack’s muscles clench around him. He came forcefully inside Jack, some of the cum dripping out of Jack’s entrance. His body shaking with white-hot pleasure, James collapsed against Jack’s back, riding out the waves like a ship on the ocean.

Both men slid to the ground spent and sated, comfortable in each others arms, neither of them caring that someone could find them. It was unlikely anyway.  
James let his head fall on Jack’s shoulder tiredly, nibbling at Jack’s ear lobe while he was at it. Jack chuckled in response and turned his head to claim James lips in a passionate but sweet kiss.  
“Are ye sure ye don’ want to join me crew?”


End file.
